


Operation Tim

by Bionerd2Point0



Series: JayTim Week 2020 [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alpha Jason Todd, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Canon-Typical Violence, Damian Wayne is a Little Shit, Day 5 - Casefic, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, Human Trafficking, Hurt/Comfort, Implied past rape/non-con of a minor, Jason kills a bunch of traffickers, JayTimWeek2020, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Omega Roy Harper, Omega Tim Drake, Pack Dynamics, Past Tim Whump, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU), Scent Marking, Scenting, Tim Drake Whump, past dubious consent, the black sheep band together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:34:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24508498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bionerd2Point0/pseuds/Bionerd2Point0
Summary: Jason hasn’t been back to Gotham since before Bruce's disappearing act three years ago. He had been across the country with the Outlaws at the time, avoiding the other Bats and trying to deal with the shitty emotions of realizing he had fucked up.Not about Bruce. Bruce was and is a fucking asshole and that clown deserves to rot in hell, but Jason's ashamed that he went after the others, especially Tim. The little Omega hadn't done anything to deserve that.None of that matters now, though. Jason's back, for better or for worse, because Bruce put out the all hands on deck call after a big Arkham breakout. Even Tim's here, crawling out from whatever rock he's been hiding under.
Relationships: Roy Harper & Koriand'r & Jason Todd, Roy Harper/Koriand'r, Tim Drake/Jason Todd
Series: JayTim Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1765741
Comments: 54
Kudos: 683
Collections: JayTimWeek





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! This fic deals with some pretty heavy themes, so go back and check out the tags if you skipped them. There’s no on screen, real-time rape/non con, but Jason busts up a trafficking HQ and some of the victims are more beat-up than others. This is also as close as I’ve ever come to playing with Canon… It’s still not very close, because I said ‘fuck timelines,’ so if things don’t line up with what you know from canon, that is why. With that said! I’m pretty darn happy with how this turned out, especially for my first time playing with present tense, and I hope you guys like it as much as I do!
> 
> Feriswheel, my darling, you are my superhero. Ya’ll have no idea what these look like before she goes through them (well, maybe you do with Safety), but she helped cut out *41* ‘buts’ in this fic. One page had 8 all by itself… SO! Send her some love, because she is wonderful!!
> 
> Enjoy!

Jason hasn't been back to Gotham since before Bruce's disappearing act three years ago. He had been across the country with the Outlaws at the time, avoiding the other Bats and trying to deal with the shitty emotions of realizing he had fucked up. 

Not about Bruce. Bruce was and is a fucking asshole and that clown deserves to rot in hell, but Jason's ashamed that he went after the others, especially Tim. The little Omega hadn't done anything to deserve that.

None of that matters now, though. Jason's back, for better or for worse, because Bruce put out the all hands on deck call after a big Arkham breakout. Even Tim's here, crawling out from whatever rock he's been hiding under. 

Jason hasn't heard a peep about Red Robin since Bruce's return, and he had thought the kid might've retired, except he looks like death warmed over. No one looks that shitty without a night job, though where the kid had settled was anyone's guess. It sure as hell wasn't Gotham. 

"Red Hood, you'll be paired with Red Robin in Park Row. Oracle will send you details on what we know of Scarecrow's movements there." Bruce's voice rumbles across the open expanse of the cave, his briefing finally coming to an end. "Robin, Black Bat, and Batgirl, you will all be patrolling Robinsonville and the surrounding neighborhoods. Ivy and Harley are most likely together, and there have been reports of excessive plant growth in the area. Nightwing and I will be searching the sewers for Killer Croc. Any questions?"

The silence is telling. 

"Oracle will be running comms. Agent A will be on standby for medical emergencies. We have packs with updated antitoxins for everyone. Remember to keep chatter to your group's comm channel and keep the main channel open for emergencies. Report back here by 5 AM. Dismissed."

Jason blinks a little, incredulous, because it's been so long that he forgot just how much of a tightass Bruce is about these things. Rude. Least he could do is say thanks. 

He doesn’t get a chance to say anything, however. Tim is already back at the medical bay and Jason may not know the kid well, but he knows when he’s about to be left behind. 

The pack of single dose antitoxins is small enough to fit in one of the inner pockets of his jacket, and then it’s a race to get back to his bike before Tim leaves him in the dust. 

“Comm check, Red team.”

Tim’s voice echoes inside his helmet, and Jason has a moment to curse Oracle for hacking his system without telling him. “Hood receiving. You copy?”

“I copy.” Tim’s voice is flat enough to make Jason wince. He definitely deserves any and all distaste Tim has for him.

“Can you hold up for a sec? I wanted to chat before we hit the streets.”

Tim doesn’t stop moving, already straddling his bike and pulling his helmet over his head.

“You can tell me over the comms on the way out.”

“I can, though I’d prefer not to.” Jason watches the Batmobile roar out of the cave, the echoes of Damian and the girls’ bikes confirming they’re alone.

“Then hurry up, we don’t have all night.” 

Jason glances back and has the uncomfortable realization that staring into an unexpressive helmet is highly uncomfortable.

“Listen, I just wanted to say sorry.”

Tim goes still, his body tense. 

“For all the shit I put you through,” he quickly clarifies. “I don’t regret much from back then. The one thing I do regret is involving you. No excuse is good enough for nearly killing you, and that’s on me for not handling my shit well. I don’t know if you can forgive me, but I wanted you to know that I regret it. Wish I hadn’t gone anywhere near you, because you’re a good Robin. Better than I was, honestly.” 

Jason doesn’t quite know what else to say, so he settles for rubbing the back of his helmet and wishing they both weren’t in helmets.

“Was.” 

He looks up, not sure what Tim means.

“I was Robin. It’s arguable if I was any good. Either way, that part of my life is behind me.” Tim’s head tips to the side. “Thank you for apologizing.” He switches on the key and guns the engine of the bike. “And, Jason? I forgave you a long time ago.”

Tim leaves with a screech of tires, and Jason is left wondering what the hell just happened. And what the hell had happened to the kid these past few years to make him so bitter.

* * *

Hours later, Jason is dragging Tim out of a warehouse and cursing Bruce’s ability to call them all to heel with every fiber of his being.

Ironically, it had gone pretty well. The goons were particularly easy to beat up—Crane probably hadn’t had a chance to really build up a good crew, given how short his period of freedom was—and Scarecrow is currently hogtied and unconscious, waiting for the authorities. That said, Tim had lost his rebreather shortly into the fight and had gotten a face full of gas right at the very end, which brought them to now.

“C’mon, kid, hold on. Just a little bit longer.” Jason pulls Tim tighter to his side, then throws caution to the wind and picks the Omega up. 

He’s light. Lighter than Jason had thought just looking at him, and he knows firsthand that their armor weighs at least thirty pounds.

“Jesus, Red. What the hell have you been doing with yourself?” 

He gets them two rooftops over and then he has to stop. They’re barely out of range, but Tim needs a shot of antitoxin before his heart gives out. Yanking off his helmet, he starts searching for the best place to administer the shot. The Red Robin armor is extensive, and it takes him a moment to decide the gauntlets would be the easiest to remove. 

“Fuck!” he yelps as a jolt of electricity travels up his arm, a significant accomplishment given that his gloves are insulated. Tim’s armor is still primed, and it packs a fucking punch.

“Hey! Red? Red, I need you to hear me for a sec. How do I turn off your security measures? I need to give this to you, kid, and I don’t know how to do that through your armor.”

Tim is trembling and flinching back against the rooftop, and Jason’s not sure how coherent he is. 

He has to repeat himself two more times before Tim does something with his fingers and flails his arm in Jason’s direction. When he tries to remove the gauntlet again, it comes off with no resistance. 

“Alright, babybird. Here we go,” he mumbles to himself, quickly sanitizing the inside of Tim’s forearm and injecting the antitoxin labeled with the jack-o-lantern face. It’s not the best injection site, but at this point, getting the antitoxin in is more important.

Tim’s face is pale, jaw clenched tight, and Jason can’t help himself from grabbing Tim’s hand in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. Tim squeezes his hand, so he figures it’s doing _some_ good.

While he waits for it to start working, he starts to notice the scent permeating the air from Tim’s exposed wrist. Sweet Omega scent tainted by sour distress coats the back of his throat, and he has to fight the urge to start purring. There's an underlying layer of _fear-heartache-pain_ that doesn't usually go along with fear gas, and something else is not quite right about it. It takes him a minute to put his finger on the problem.

Tim doesn’t smell like Bat pack. Jason doesn’t either, but Jason hasn’t been part of the Bat’s pack since he died. Dick and the others were practically drowning in the scent in the cave—Bruce’s special concoction to mark them as _his_ in the suits and distinctly different from the personal scent he covers them in outside the suits. Why hadn’t Tim been marked too?

He hadn’t noticed in the cave where everyone else smelled so strongly, nor afterwards with his helmet filtering all the scents out of the air. When he holds Tim’s wrist to his nose now, though, there’s not a trace of the others there—which is really fucking weird because Tim is the pack Omega.

Tim jerks his hand out of Jason's grasp, and when he looks down, the kid is scowling. 

"Didn't anyone teach you that unsolicited scenting is rude?" His voice is strong, at contrast with his shaking arms as he pushes himself upright. 

"I didn't rub my scent anywhere near you, kid. Chill. Just making sure the antitoxin was working."

"It's working," Tim grunts, trying to get his feet under himself and listing to the side. 

"Woah, slow down there, double R. Let those chemicals settle a bit, then I can get us back to the cave."

“No,” he snaps. "I'm going home. I'll email Oracle my report in the morning."

Jason hesitates, because he absolutely understands not wanting to deal with Batman's shit. Sometimes, though, the best way to deal with the aftermath of fear gas is to surround yourself with pack. "You sure that's what you want to do? I can hang here with you for a bit longer, let that adrenaline wear off a bit more."

"I appreciate the offer, but no." Tim straightens up, shoulders set in a way that screams stubborn determination. "This was a load of bullshit, and I shouldn't have come. B _knows_ I'm retired, and he definitely didn't need me for—for all this." He waves his hand towards the flashing lights surrounding the warehouse they abandoned. "I'm going _home_ , and if he so much as thinks about complaining, I'll never do another security upgrade for the League again. Thanks for running with me tonight, Hood. It was surprisingly nice."

Jason watches him grapple off the roof, feeling like he’s missing something major. The kid also had a good point in that this whole thing was a load of bull. If the Joker were out, that would warrant all hands on deck—minus Jason, since they _know better_ —or if it were more than just the four that had gotten out. 

It’s not like Bruce to just up and ask for help either, let alone from _Jason_ , and now that it’s been pointed out, he has the sinking suspicion that the Bat had some kind of ulterior motive in all this. There are a few routes he could go to find out for sure, but only one of them is guaranteed to be Bat-free.

He arrives at the old clock tower just after 3 AM, slipping through the unlocked window and following the blue glow of technology.

“Heya, Barbie,” he says, pulling off his helmet and running a hand through his hair.

She doesn’t even look over to greet him. “Hood. Is there a reason you’re here instead of the cave?”

He doesn’t let her curt tone rile him up. Barbara is the only Bat he’s had any contact with since he tried to blow himself up with the Joker, and she’s never been anything other than concerned for his well-being.

“Have you been listening to my comms?” He’s surprised that she doesn’t already know.

Her eyes flick from the wall of screens to shoot him an incredulous look. “I’m still trying to track down Crock for B, as well as coordinate the other three. Stephanie and Damian can’t stand each other on a good day, let alone when Dami gets hit with a rut inducer. I was trusting that you and Tim could be mature and not murder each other. Are you telling me I was wrong?”

Wincing, Jason leans against her desk, watching her fingers fly across the keys and hearing the faint murmur of voices in her ear from whichever channel she’s listening to now. “No. We’re good. Are the kids okay?”

Her lips twitch in a smirk at the question. “They’re fine. Ivy’s out, and Black Bat is engaging Harley while Batgirl waits for the antidote to kick in. Robin’s just upset that he was taken down so quickly.” She taps her earpiece and lists off a bunch of coordinates, probably relaying potential locations to the Bat, then goes back to sifting through all the data. “So, you gonna tell me what happened? I’ve been following the police pickup for Scarecrow, so I know you got him.”

“Red got hit with some gas, nothing major.” Jason keeps his tone flippant and watches closely as Barbara tenses up at the news. “He’s fine, heading home, wherever that is. He pointed out something interesting, and I have to admit I’m a little curious.”

Barbara doesn’t ask the obvious question, and that, more than anything else, is what makes Jason continue. 

“Bruce didn’t need us tonight, Babs. Yeah, there’s a bunch of crazies on the street, but he could’ve gotten Scarecrow tonight while the other three took care of Ivy and Harley. Croc shouldn’t be a threat until he starts getting hungry next week. The obvious conclusion is that he needed us all here at the same time for something _else_ , and I’ve never been one to play his games.” He folds his arms across his chest. “Even if he didn’t include you in the plan, there’s no way you don’t know what it is, so spill.”

Barbara had stopped typing after his first sentence. She hits three successive keys and turns her chair to face him for the first time, giving him her undivided attention. “I don’t know any more than you do.” She raises a hand to stop his protest. “ _But_ ,” she stresses, “I do have some suspicions. How closely have you followed the mask scene since you left Gotham?”

Jason shrugs. “I know the general gist of things. Three years ago, Bruce was dead, Timmy vanished, the new brat became Robin. A year later, Bruce is back and Timmy disappears. It’s been kinda quiet since, and then tonight I find out that little Red Robin doesn’t smell like Bat pack _or_ Wayne pack, and it makes a guy wonder.”

Barbara straight up _winces_ at that, and that tells Jason that really he missed a lot. “You’ve got the big details right.” She licks her lips, stalling. “I don’t know… everything. Tim’s time abroad is largely unknown by all of us, except for a few small instances. I do want to know why you care, before I tell you anything else.”

He takes a moment to think about it, because why _does_ he care? Yeah, there’s some leftover guilt about how he treated the kid in the past, and the general curiosity of wanting to know one’s successor, but was that really it?

“I think,” he starts slowly, “that the Bat burned us both. And if this story goes the way I think it does, I think I could offer him some solidarity if he needs it. Friendship if he wants it. Either way, I think he needs help.”

She studies him for a few seconds, probably determining how honest he’s being. He must pass the muster, as she continues where she left off. “Bruce was dead. Superman brought his body back from an off-planet mission and… it was really bad, Jason. Damian had just shown up a few weeks beforehand, and we didn’t even know how to handle him, let alone fill in Bruce’s shoes. Dick stepped up as Batman, and suddenly Tim started going on about how Bruce was alive and lost in time… it wasn’t good.”

He nods, as it lines up with what he thinks happened, though he also has a feeling the story is about to wildly diverge from his mental timeline. 

“Tim had experienced a lot of death in a short period of time. First his dad, then two of his best friends, and Bruce to top it all off?” She shifts, twisting her fingers in her lap. “We were all worried about him. None of us deal with grief well… and, well. Long story short, Dick gave Robin to Damian in a poorly-thought-out plan to have Tim as his partner and Dami the protege. It obviously didn’t come across like that, and less than a week later, Tim was gone.”

Jason stares at her, gaping, because what? Dick is usually the emotionally competent member of this fucked up family. “What the fuck?”

“Yeah.” Barbara grimaces. “It wasn’t good.”

“No _shit_. And you’re saying Dick never apologised?” 

She shrugs. “I honestly don’t know if he did or not. Tim was gone for over a year. Dropped off the map. We weren’t able to contact him except for the Black Lantern situation where he showed up, helped, and left before anyone could say anything. He pulled Bruce out of time a couple months later, and something happened. I don’t know what, exactly, but he sent out this mass notice about how he was retiring and would be exclusively working through digital communication and data collection…”

She takes a fortifying breath, and Jason can’t help but dread whatever she’s planning on saying next. “Dick told me that Bruce confronted him about it the next day, and Tim told him that he was done pretending to be part of our pack. That he had never really been part of the family and he was sick of catering to the whims of ‘knothead Alphas who are so self-centered they can’t see others as more than pawns.’” 

Jason can practically see the finger quotes in the air and feels like his worldview got shifted a few degrees to the left. Tim said that to _Bruce_?

Barbara looks close to tears, though. She closes her eyes, the bitter scent of shame rolling off her. “He dropped so far off the grid after that. I _still_ don’t know where he lives. The two friends who died ended up coming back, and I know he met up with them once, but he cut them off too. I have his old work email and the number for a burner phone that only receives texts. Personally, I think tonight was Bruce's only way of making sure that Tim was actually still alive. He had me email Tim to come in and help, and Tim asked why he didn’t contact you, so you’re here too.”

“Holy shit.” Jason tips his head back, trying to process everything. “Holy _shit_.” He drops his head back down, looking at her with furrowed brows, catching something she skipped over. “Where were you in all this?”

Looking at her lap, Barbara plucks at the seam of her pants. "I was running my team. Still am, but we were just starting then, and they needed more help. And it was a good excuse to get out of Gotham for a while. I should have stayed, should have kept a better eye on everyone…" she trails off with a shrug, and Jason can't blame her for wanting to get out. Heavens knows he wasn't here for any of it.

"Not your fault, Barbie. It's not your responsibility to stop Bruce and Dick from being assholes. That's on them." He pauses, debating on whether he really is about to do this, and decides that yes. He is that stupid. "Can you give me that email and phone number? I'd like to have a way to contact the kid."

"Why?" she asks, scrutinizing him.

And isn't that the question of the week? He gives her a self deprecating smile. "We all have our own ways of atoning for our sins."

It's not an answer, not really. Still, nothing else could be more true. 

"Okay. I want a hug first, though."

Laughing, he ducks down to wrap his arms around her shoulders, breathing in her calming Beta scent. "I always did like your hugs best."

* * *

Deciding on how to track down Tim is admittedly not the easiest thing Jason has ever decided to do. Barbara was right in that the kid was practically a ghost. Not totally gone, so Bruce and his ilk don't have a reason to put more effort into finding him, but notably absent in every physical sense. 

He emailed Tim asking for some data about a week after the Gotham fiasco and received a prompt response with more information than he needed for the case. There was a disappointing lack of personality in the exchange. 

Just who is Timothy Drake?

"Why do you care?" Roy finally asks, only half paying attention to Jason's ranting, clearly done with his shit. He cooes at Lian, the toddler balanced on his lap and deeply engaged in a dramatic story about her stuffed unicorn. 

"I don't know!" He's not whining, no. He's not. "I just. I empathize with the kid, right? I mean, we were both taken in by the Bat and then thrown away or blown up when he was done with us… and I just get this feeling that he's in some kind of trouble. That he's not safe. I know how much you guys saved me, but he cut _everyone_ off including his not-dead best friends. I just want the kid to know that he has backup if he needs it and that he's not alone."

"You do not know that he is alone, Jason." Kori points out, massaging his scalp as his head rests on her lap. 

"You should've smelled him, Kori. It was…" he trails off, trying to find the words. "There was no other scent besides his own, and he smelled like he was in pain. Distress ‘cause fear toxin sucks is one thing, but this was deep, like—like my mom used to smell when she wasn't high." 

Jason sits up abruptly, disturbed at having made that parallel. He can’t deny the similarities now that he's pointed it out.

"I just… my gut is telling me that he could use a friend at the least and that something is seriously wrong at the worst. I may not have the best qualifications for the job, but I have to try." 

Roy glances at his mate, and they have an exchange that Jason can't even begin to understand. 

"Okay," Roy says. "Just make sure this isn't some shitty Alpha instinct where you want to go smother him in Alpha protection because he can’t take care of himself. That would be a really shitty thing to do."

Nodding, Jason laces his hands together and leans forward on his knees. "I know. This is coming from me, not hormones. You know how good I am about taking suppressants."

Roy smiles, tugging Lian so that she's resting against his chest. "I know. Just pointing out the possibility. And we're here for you, Jay, however this turns out. We're your pack."

They are. And he never could've imagined a better pack in his wildest dreams.

* * *

The problem is that there are very few excuses requiring a face-to-face meeting with Tim that he can't just suggest Jason go see someone else for. It ends up taking an extra three months of random requests for information before Jason has a legitimate excuse. 

The excuse comes in the form of an encrypted jump drive holding the locations of several depos used by a human trafficking ring based in Houston. It's the one case he hasn't been able to find a break in in weeks, and he's actually more eager for the information than he is for phase two of Operation Tim. (It's not the best name. He's working on it.)

Since the data can't be passed online and mailing it or using a dead drop is too risky, Tim agrees to meet him at a cafe in Indiana—which is a fucking weird location, though definitely not one Bruce would think to check. 

The city is just big enough that strangers aren't notable, and the cafe is moderately busy. It's a perfect location to be subtle, and Jason can't help but wonder if Tim actually lives in the area. 

Tim is already there when Jason walks in the front door, having claimed a corner both with clear lines of sight to all the entrances and exits. He left Jason to sit with his back to the room, and Jason honestly doesn't mind at this point. 

"Hey, thanks for coming," he greets.

"If there was any other way, I wouldn't be here." Tim doesn't look pissed, but he's definitely not happy to be there. He also must have doused himself in an entire can of scent neutralizer before coming, because he smells like _nothing._

"I know. And I appreciate it." He hands Tim one of the menus that were propped up against the wall, easily slipping the USB into Tim's hand along the way. "So, what's good here?"

"Never been, so your guess is as good as mine." 

Well, that kills the idea of this being a regular haunt. 

They peruse the menus in silence until the waitress comes by, both choosing to order sandwiches, although Tim's sounds marginally healthier than the melt Jason picks. 

Desperate for some kind of conversation, Jason tries a good ol' reliable line. "What have you been up to?" 

"Life," Tim answers simply. "You?"

Well. It's not the lively response Jason was hoping for. It's _something,_ though. 

"Been pretty busy. Roy and Kori have been taking more and more time off to settle down with Lian—you know he has a daughter, right?" 

Tim nods.

"Yeah, so I've been doing a lot of solo stuff and they consult. They'll probably join in if this bust turns out as big as I think it's going to be. I've been trying to let them stay home as much as possible, though. I generally don't need the help anyways."

"Kids require a lot of time," Tim agrees, expression unreadable. 

"They do. And Lian is a sweetheart. Never thought being an uncle would be this rewarding, ." 

"Hm."

He plows onward. "I actually had a favor to ask about that. If this data is accurate, once I get everything scoped out and a strategy set, would you mind running our comms? You should be able to do it from home, but keeping an eye on the cameras would give us some much needed backup. I'm willing to pay for it or owe you a favor. Whatever you want." 

Tim frowns at the table. He doesn't immediately say no, and Jason feels a spark of hope. 

"Is there a reason you can't ask anyone else?"

Jason shrugs, saying, "Not really anyone else to ask. Barbie texts me random case details once every blue moon to remind me she's watching, but I don't really talk to anyone other than Roy, Kori, informants, and now you. If you don't want to, we'll do what we've always done. An extra pair of eyes never hurts, though."

"I'll think about it." Another non-answer. Jason does a dance in his head, taking his victories where he can get them. "Let me crack the drive first."

The meal passes quickly after that, consisting mostly of Jason rambling about whatever topic he can think of that Tim might be interested in. The Omega is incredibly quiet; though despite the taciturn attitude, he learns that Tim doesn't like raw tomatoes and has read Lord of the Rings, which are two things he didn't know before they sat down. Two little steps closer to figuring out what happened in Tim's past, and maybe why he's so worried about anyone catching his scent.

* * *

"I want you to know that this is _not_ what I signed up for." Tim's voice echoes quietly in Jason's helmet. "I signed up for tech support and backup via comm systems, not saving your collective asses because _someone_ couldn't be bothered to check for motion sensors."

"It's a condemned warehouse in the middle of nowhere!" Jason whispers furiously. "I didn't even think they had electricity."

"And that translated to you thinking I could still be of service?" The raised eyebrow was audible. Jason could feel the sass all the way from wherever Tim was holed up. 

Roy snorts. "He's got you there, Jaybird."

"Names," he grumbles, but it's an old argument. One not helped by the fact that he's stuck in a utility closet while the guards search the floor for whatever tripped the motion sensor attached to the window he used to get in. This entire plan had heavily relied on the element of surprise, and they're dangerously close to losing it. 

"Peace." Kori, thankfully, is still outside. "We shall simply do what we have always done and 'trash the plan,' yes?"

He sighs heavily. "Yeah, okay. Top priority is getting the civilians out of the basement. Bad guys can get caught another day, but if those 'Megas get shipped we might not find them all. Tell me what our options are, guys."

"There is no outdoor sublevel access," Kori confirms, "if you direct me, I can make one." 

"I've got eyes on the ground floor guards," Roy reports. "Twelve total. If I can get them grouped up, I can probably take them all out with just a few taser arrows." 

There's a minute of silence and then Tim reports in. "I finished hacking into their system. There are ten guards searching the second floor for you, Hood. The basement is locked electronically, and there are two guards in with the civilians. I can trigger the motion sensors upstairs to make them easy for Hood to ambush and unlock the doors for Arsenal and Starfire to take out the last guards and get everyone out. I'm also downloading all the data they have stored on their network, which should help us find other locations."

Jason thinks it over for a moment, and it just might work except… "What's the ratio of machine guns to bad guys on my floor?"

Another moment of silence. 

"One to one. From what I can tell, they don't have armor piercing rounds."

"Won't know that for sure until after they start shooting." Jason purses his lips and fights with himself for a moment. He knows what he has to do, but… "T, how much do you care about lethal force?"

The answer comes with shockingly little hesitation. "I'm not Batman."

"Need you to use your words. This might get hairy."

"Hood. I don't care if you kill one, I don't care if you kill all. I do expect you to castrate everyone left breathing."

"... Not that I wasn't already planning on it, but why?"

Tim's voice burns with a kind of fury that Jason hadn't expected from the kid. "They've got pups downstairs, Jason. And at least one of the little girls was bitten."

For a second, all he can see is green. The rage takes him unexpectedly, and it’s all consuming. To rape was one thing. To forcibly bond was another. To forcibly bond a pup? No one is walking away tonight. 

"Arsenal, Starfire, they're dead at your discretion. We don't need any for interrogation, I already have the information. T, set your trap and tell me where to go. This’ll be bloody." 

Things move fast after that. Jason's part starts first, with Tim directing him to the big office on the second floor, where the guards were gathered around a closet door where they thought the intruder was hiding. 

There was a time in his life where Jason would have drawn it out and killed them one at a time, and on rare occasions, he brings those skills back out. Tonight, though? Tonight is about efficiency. At Tim's cue, Roy launches his attack downstairs, and Jason chucks a grenade into their midst. 

No one escapes the blast unscathed, and the few stragglers left alive are easily picked off. 

"Upstairs cleared," he reports. 

"Good. Arsenal and Starfire are calming the civilians down now. Head down and I'll— _shit_." 

"What's wrong?" Jason is instantly on high alert.

"Not you. Something on my end. I'm turning my mic off and notifying the police. Go downstairs." Tim talks fast, rushing to get the words out before his mic clicks off, and Jason's tense even after he gets downstairs and can confirm with his own eyes that his team is unscathed.

The civilians are a mix of nationalities, ranging from ages thirty to ten, and they're skittish as hell. Jason keeps his distance for the most part, not wanting to further traumatize them with another Alpha stranger. 

Kori, having no dynamic and being able to bridge the language gap—the only thing Dick was good for—is a surprising hit. Usually people are wary of the glowing alien, but she ends up sitting in the sand purring and helping the frailest keep warm until the authorities get closer. 

Over an hour has passed when they spot police lights in the distance. With some final reassurances, Kori takes Roy and Jason by the wrists and flies them to where they stashed an old truck, five miles out. 

"T, do you copy?" The continued silence is concerning, especially because if something _did_ happen he wouldn't even know where to start looking. 

The tense silence is broken by a quiet click.

"Here," Tim whispers, voice so soft Jason can hardly hear it. 

"You good?"

"Yeah. Had to deal with something, but it's handled now. It's late, my time, so I'm going to go to bed."

"Okay." Jason takes a deep breath and does his best to let go of all his stress. "Keep in touch, alright?" 

"I will. Goodnight guys, I'm glad you got everyone out safely." Tim cuts his comm after they echo similar responses back. 

Jason is very careful to take off his helmet and ensure the others have their comms out before he says anything. "Did that sound wrong to you guys too? Or is it just me?" 

Roy shifts his weight on his feet and grimaces. "It was definitely… weird."

"Indeed," Kori agrees, ever the practical one. "The manner in which he cut himself off was very irregular."

"So when I say that he sounded _scared_ at first, that's not just Alpha hindbrain? And that it sounded like he was whispering as if he didn't want someone to hear him when he said goodbye?"

"It's… not just Alpha hindbrain." Roy confirms, a grudging expression of concern on his face.

"Okay. ‘Cause right now, I'm wired and ready to hunt down some assholes and rip out throats, and I don't even know who." That instinct is normal, especially after a night like tonight, but usually it passes after he’s gotten the civilians out. Now? That instinct is still going strong, and he forcibly flexes his hands to get the blood back to his knuckles. Counts his breaths to keep calm.

"Yeah." Roy slumps down against the side of the truck. "I'm getting similar vibes. Fuck. I thought you were making this shit up, Jay."

"I do not follow," Kori says, frowning.

"Tim is checking off, like, every possible box for abused Omega. I didn't really believe it, but with how scared he sounded before he cut his mic? Something's definitely wrong." Roy rubs a hand over his face, smearing the smudge of dirt on his cheek from earlier.

"What is our course of action?" she asks, turning to Jason and looking visibly concerned. 

Hell if he knew. 

"We don't want to scare him off. I need to figure out a way to see him again, maybe see if we can get a clearer picture of the situation. Find out where he's living…"

* * *

It turns out that Jason doesn't need to find a way to see Tim; Tim asks to meet him at a coffee shop in Pittsburgh less than a week later.

"The SD card has everything I pulled from their drives on it, organized by level of relevance with a few things flagged for your attention." Tim gestures to the envelope Jason is now holding, more upbeat that Jason can ever remember seeing him. "There's also a big folder that says 'download me.' It's a firewall to beef up whatever security you have in your computers. Can be used multiple times, so feel free to share with Roy and Kori. Merry Christmas."

Jason's eyebrows rise in surprise. "It's June?"

"Well, I'm in a gift-giving mood." Tim says, shrugging.

Jason grins, liking the look of happiness on Tim's face. "Any particular reason why?"

"Nope." Tim pops the 'p' and gives a cheeky grin. "Just been feeling good about life and thought I'd share the feeling."

"Well then," he picks up his tea to tap against Tim's cup of hot chocolate, "to good moods." 

They don't linger long, just enough to finish their drinks before Tim cites a prior commitment and has to leave. It's such a positive experience, Jason hesitates to follow through with his plan. The heavy memory of the fear in Tim's voice is the only thing pushing him forward as he follows the Omega from a distance. 

It's quite possibly one of the most difficult tracking missions Jason has ever experienced. Pittsburgh's roads are a hot fucking mess, and Tim's gold sedan blends in seamlessly with the heavy traffic. He drops the car at a rental shop across the city, then takes an Uber to a gas station and goes inside. 

Tim comes out in a completely different outfit with a hat, following a group of baseball players out of the gas station with ease. Jason only spots him in the mass of people when he splits off on the way to the school bus.

A second Uber picks him up and delivers him to a public transportation station, and it's a near miss to pick which bus he gets on. It takes three and a half hours to travel from the bus stop in Pittsburgh to Cleveland, Ohio, and Jason spends the entire journey hoping it's the right bus and thanking every deity in existence he had started this excursion with a full tank of gas. 

When everyone starts to disembark, the pit of his stomach sinks. He doesn't see Tim. Did he really follow the wrong bus this far? 

Everyone is walking in small groups, no one splitting off, and the blue shirt Tim had changed into is markedly absent. 

There's an Alpha walking with his mate, both proudly displaying their bonding bites, two older women stopping to adjust their bags, a pair of young men laughing together, a trio of—

Looking back at the two men, Jason nearly does a double take. The brown-haired one wears an oversized hoodie, and the other is in a blouse typical of Omega fashion with his black hair up in a truly atrocious bun. 

Jason studies the black-haired man. 

He has the right body type, and the backpack he's carrying could easily be concealing the satchel Tim had been toting around earlier. The man turns his head, and even though his eyes are dark, Jason would recognize that smile anywhere. 

Tim's jawline looks altered somehow, and Jason would have _never_ pegged this outfit as something he would wear, but it's definitely him. 

The duo split off in the parking lot, and Jason waits until there's another car behind Tim's white hybrid to start following him again. 

They hit the highway pretty fast, and stay on it for another forty minutes traveling East. He's careful to stay several cars back, making sure that his car is never directly in Tim's line of sight. 

Tim leads him to a small city—township? Jason doesn't know—called Mentor, and ends up turning into a distressingly normal neighborhood. Jason has to drive past the road and backtrack to avoid suspicion, and it's easy enough to find Tim's car in the driveway of a two story house with a nice front porch.

Parking in the driveway of a house marked for sale down the road, he makes a show of going over to pull one of the fliers out of the box on the sign. He's not sure where to go from here. Does he just walk up and knock on the door? He'll draw attention to himself quickly if he lingers too long, but all of his plans are made useless in the face of this normalcy. He had thought Tim would be living in a city apartment somewhere, maybe a townhouse or brownstone, not a colonial-style house too far out to even be considered a suburb. Was this Tim's choice? Or did it belong to the douchebag that could incite a fear response as strong as they had all heard the other night?

The front door of the house opens before he can make a decision, and a teenage girl stands in the doorway. She chats a bit longer with someone just out of view, then starts walking across the grass towards one of the neighboring houses. 

Tim steps into the doorway she vacated, and Jason instantly knows he's fucked up, because Tim stands there waving after the girl with a toddler balanced on his hip.

* * *

Somehow in his panic, Jason finds himself sitting in the parking lot of a park near Tim's neighborhood. He knows what he has to do, and the idea of fessing up to his gross violation of Tim's privacy makes him sick to his stomach. 

Tim could very well cut Jason out of his life entirely, and for good reason. He should have brought up his concerns to Tim first, not run off half cocked with visions of—what? Sweeping Tim off his feet as his personal hero? Tim is more than capable of taking care of himself, and Jason has crossed the line. 

Taking a picture of the park, the playground just in frame, he texts it to Tim with the message: _I'm sorry. I fucked up._

Ten minutes later, his phone rings with a call from a blocked number. 

"You fucking asshole," Tim whispers furiously, not giving Jason a chance to say anything. "I can't believe you did this. Do you realize the danger you just put me in? If you were obvious enough for someone to have followed you?" 

Tim is _seething_ , and Jason bows his head in shame while drowning in guilt. He hadn't even thought about that.

"You're going to go to Toledo, and you're going to find a reason to be there. It's a trafficking hub, go save some people. _I'm_ going to make sure you didn't just ruin my entire fucking life, and when I'm ready I'm going to call you over so I can rip your throat out myself." He hangs up, leaving Jason with the sinking feeling that the situation is even worse than he thought. 

He has his orders, though, and it's the least he can do for Tim. 

* * *

Three weeks later, he's standing in Tim's foyer like a dog with his tail between his legs.

Tim's just watching him, expression closed off with deep brown eyes oh-so-different than his natural blue. 

"I want to know how much you think you know, and why you thought following me home was a good idea." It's an expected question, but Jason still flinches. Tim's voice can cut steel. 

Rubbing his hands on his jeans, he stares intently at the floor when he says, "I thought you were in an abusive relationship. Cutting Bruce off, yeah, I get that, but Babs said you cut off _everyone_ , including your friends when they came back to life. And on that mission, you sounded so afraid at the end, and even Roy got bad vibes from it, so I wanted to make sure you were safe. And… then I saw that girl leave, and the pup…" 

"What possessed you to care so much in the first place?"

Jason takes a deep breath. Despite having had some time to think about it, putting his thoughts into words is still a struggle. "I know how manipulative the Bats can be. They hold you close when you do what they want, then cut you off at the first hint of debate. It's like getting kicked off a ledge without a grapple and I… I wanted, well, want to offer you a tether. Support that doesn't come with a list of conditions."

Tim breathes out sharply at that and he seems to come to a conclusion, dropping his arms and waving him deeper into the house. "How much did Babs tell you?"

"Uh, as much as she knows?" Jason shrugs, taking a seat on the couch Tim directs him to and noting the layers of scent and _happiness-home_ that have seeped into the house. "Just a general gist and that she's frustrated she knows so few of the actual details."

Tim settles into the armchair across from him and says, "Did she tell you how Dick fired me?"

It feels like a trick question, so Jason takes his time to answer. "She told me that he did it in an effort to put you on equal ground, but that it didn't come off that way and you left shortly after."

Tim nods slowly, his brows pinched in focus and his scent carefully neutral. "He must not have told her that he was thinking of sending me to Arkham." 

Jason feels the air get sucked out of the room at the statement. 

"When I first found evidence that Bruce was alive, I told Dick. Showed him the portrait in the manor and everything. The next day he was talking to Alfred about sending me to an institute where I would 'receive better care,'" he quotes. "It sent me into an out of cycle stress heat, and when it finished four days later, I went down to the cave and found Damian suited up as Robin. I was sixteen years old and Dick told me that I was being childish and should have grown out of the mantle by then, even though my run as Robin was arguably shorter than anyone else's."

Tim leans back casually, as if he doesn't know his words have sent bile clawing up Jason's throat. 

"I left after that. Realized that if I wanted to save Bruce, I'd have to do it on my own. Ended up fighting with the League of Assassins against another assassin group called the Council of Spiders. Got stabbed at one point and lost my spleen, which cascaded into a whole host of other issues." Tim says it flippantly, but his eyes are intense as they bore into Jason's. "The biggest of which being I couldn't take suppressants until I recovered, resulting in me spending an ill-advised heat with Ra's al Ghul."

"Ra's al—" Jason cuts himself off, heart quickening as anger wars with the nausea churning his stomach. "Christ, Timmy. He—you—"

"It was consensual," Tim says, tight-lipped. "I said yes."

"Were you already in heat? You know people can't consent after it kicks in, and—holy shit." The timing catches up with him, and Jason does some quick mental math to be sure. "Were you still _seventeen_?!"

"It was consensual, and I need you to drop it." 

There's a hint of vinegar in the air, and the pain in Tim's eyes makes Jason's mouth snap shut.

"It doesn't matter anymore. I blew his base up and ruined his entire operation, thoroughly pissing him off, so he'll never come after me again. I thought it'd be fine, 'cause I had figured out how to save Bruce, and he could fix everything."

Tim’s scent spikes, a harsh zing of spice and anger that has dread building within Jason. Dread that the story would get worse still.

"I pulled Bruce out of the timestream, and you know what the first thing he said to me was? 'Robin, you should be on suppressants.'" He snorts. "I told him Dick had taken Robin from me and he said that it was a good choice. That Damian needed it more and I could obviously handle myself." He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "He went back to Gotham, I took a few extra days to tell a friend I was alright and that it was over. Realized I was pregnant. I didn't know how to tell the others, didn't know what I would do, and on my first night back in Gotham, Damian stabbed me in the thigh at the dinner table. Bruce told him not to do it again, and told me to stop antagonizing him as if I had even looked the kid in the eye." 

Jason's hands are shaking and his jaw is clenched so tight he's at risk of breaking teeth. He knows the restrained fury must be rolling off him in waves of scent, but the anger that sits so close to the surface has risen to a steady boil, and he can’t believe the treatment Tim has endured. Barbara must not have known any of this, or she would have broken off from the Bats years ago.

"I decided there and then that I was done. Sent out my notice of retirement from the mask, put Bruce in his place when he tried to shame me for quitting, and left. The only reason I went back to help was because I thought more than those four had broken out of Arkham, and I don't intend to ever do it again." Tim pauses, lifting his chin in a blatant challenge to Jason with his eyes blazing. "So you understand, Jason, that you tracking me here is not just a violation of my privacy, it's a threat against my life and the life of my baby. Ra's doesn't know where I am, and he doesn't know that I had his pup. Talia has a special interest in you, though, and you bulldozing your way into my safe haven could very well have ended with me being chained to a bed the rest of my life and my pup nothing more than a pawn in Ra's clutches."

The very idea of it makes him sick to his stomach, the guilt clawing at his insides and fear for Tim’s safety causes flickers of green to dart across his vision.

Tim takes a deep breath, and the challenge leaves him. "You didn't, for what it's worth. My informants confirmed that there's been no League activity in the area, but you need to be really, really careful from here on out. If you come here again, it needs to be in a car unassociated with you and you can't have any electronics. Nothing that sends any kind of signal that can be traced. And you need to be damn sure you aren't being followed."

Jason nods hard enough to strain his neck, willing to do just about anything to reassure Tim, but—"You'd be willing to risk me coming here again?"

Tim's expression folds in on itself, and that decades-old weariness Jason had first noticed is back. "I don't want to. But… I don't know if I'll have the choice. I cashed out my trust fund when I first left Gotham, so money isn't the issue.” Tim pauses, rubbing his palms against his jeans and looking away. “We had a scare in January. I got the flu and developed pneumonia, ended up in the hospital for a few weeks and Tia had to stay with the neighbors. It worked at the time, but I can’t do it again. I can’t risk Ra’s going after them and I don’t know who else to turn to if we need help, or if something happens to me…”

"Hey, no, if you need help you just let me know. Roy and Kori will be more than willing to help in whatever capacity you want, too." Jason's brain is running a mile a minute trying to put together everything the kid—no, not a kid. Tim is definitely not a child—is telling him.

"I need a next of kin," he states bluntly. "I need someone willing to take in Tia if I die so she doesn't end up in the foster system, and they need to be able to defend against Ra's' assassins. I know Roy already has Lian, but I don't know him that well. I don’t know you that well either, really. I at least know your history, though."

Jason nods. "Roy would probably be happy to help if you give me permission to tell him, and even if he's not, I'm more than willing."

"You… are?" Tim looks surprised, and something inside Jason bubbles up with the need to prove himself.

"Yeah. Lian has grown up with all three of us, so I've had a fair bit of practice at this point, and I've always liked kids. Would be nice to meet her, but I don't have to if you're not comfortable with it." Jason channels as much earnestness into his voice as he can. Tim certainly needs sincerity above all else.

Tim watches him, wide-eyed. It takes him a moment to formulate a response. "I'll think about it. Thank you. I… I really appreciate it.”

The silence settles between them, comfortable now that everything has been aired out.

“So…” Jason starts. “Tia?”

Tim blushes, the smile on his face is soft and genuine. “Yeah. Victoria Chani Lee—I’m Timothy Lee here, by the way. She’s at my neighbor’s right now, but I have some pictures?”

“Hit me with it, Timmy. I want to see this little angel.”

Tim’s scent loses the careful, neutral edge, and _eager-happy-pride_ fills the room. “Okay, hold on.” He hops off of the chair and moves to the entertainment center across the room, pulling out a thick photo album. Sitting a careful distance away from Jason on the couch, Tim opens it up to the first page dedicated to a wrinkly newborn with a tuft of black hair on her head. 

“Victoria Chani Lee was born at three AM on October sixth…”


	2. Chapter 2

Jason unlocks the door with his key, opening it to find the foyer abandoned. “Tim?” he calls.

A happy screech echoes down the hall, announcing the imminent arrival of a ball of black hair and giggles hurtling itself at Jason’s knees. 

“Jayjay!!” Tia shouts and makes grabby hands. “Up! Up!” 

Laughing, he scoops her up and plants a kiss on her cheek before settling her on his hip. “Okay, princess. Where’s your daddy?”

“Daddy,” Tim says, walking down the hall from the kitchen, “is losing his mind because he’s running late. Thank you so much for coming over, Jason. Kaleigh got sick, and I didn’t know who else to call.”

“No problem, Timbers. You know I can’t resist your green-eyed princess.” He rubs his cheek against Tia’s head, lightly scenting her while she giggles into his shoulder. 

In the year or so since learning about Tim’s past, Jason has found himself spending more and more time with the small family. At first, it was an awkward friendship consisting primarily of Tim reaching out to him irregularly for vigilante reasons, but that changed after he finally introduced him to Tia. It's taken a while; Tia hasn’t grown up around many Alphas, but Jason’s slowly grown to be one of her favorite people, right behind Kaleigh, who is leagues behind Tim. 

Tia’s favorite person is very clear and non-contestable, for good reason. Tim is  _ amazing _ with her. 

“Okay. I’ve got my bag, I’ve got my laptop, I’ve got my keys and phone, you have my number, dinner is—”

“Tim,” Jason cuts him off. “We’ll be okay. I’ve got this, you go show those corporate bigwigs who’s boss. Tell them all about how their cyber security sucks and they need to hire your company to bulk up their firewalls.” 

Tim gives him a long look, clearly debating the merits of pointing out the deliberate flaws in Jason’s summary of his job. He must decide it’s not worth the time, because he shakes his head and closes the distance between them to plant a kiss on Tia’s cheek.

“Be good for Jay, okay?”

Tia nods seriously, voice solemn as she says, “I will, Daddy.” 

She has that adorable three-year-old lisp where all of the ‘l’s and ‘r’s turn into ‘w’ sounds, and it always makes him smile. With Tim right in front of him, Jason has to hide his grin in her hair. 

“Alright. Dinner’s in the fridge, and bedtime is at eight. I should be home around ten, and if you guys need me, just call, okay?” Tim fidgets, stalling, then kisses Tia a second time and brushes his wrist over Jason’s arm. “Okay. Bye, baby! Bye, Jay!” 

“Bye, Tim!” Jason stands in the doorway with Tia, waving while Tim pulls out of the driveway. He swears Tim’s touch is burning through his jacket sleeve to the skin beneath. There’s no reason for him to feel so warm. Casual scenting between friends is  _ normal _ , and this isn’t even the first time Tim’s done it.

When Tim’s car is finally out of sight, he closes and locks the door, then turns to Tia. “So, what do you have planned for me today?”

She tips her head to the side, gnawing on her lip while she thinks. A slow smile spreads across her face and she looks up at him through her lashes. “Tea party?”

“A tea party! Why, that sounds lovely, Miss Tia. Now, I have an important question for you.” Jason puts on his serious face. “What kind of tea are we drinking?”

Tia’s eyebrows pinch together and her little face scrunches up while she thinks about it. “Flower,” she declares.

“Flower it is,” he agrees, hefting her up his hip and making his way to the kitchen. “Let’s see if your Daddy did the dishes recently.”

-

Jason takes a sip of Tia’s tea, hiding his grimace at the lukewarm sugar-water that has just enough hibiscus tea to make it pink. She’s too little for real tea, though, so he smiles and says, “It’s absolutely wonderful, Princess Tia,” while subtly dropping the rest of the teabag into his cup.

“Thank you, Prince Jay.” She takes her sippy cup back from him and carefully walks to her seat.

The little tea table is too small to fit the tray, so he turned the dresser into a makeshift prep table. He grabs his teacup of real tea, and makes his way over to the little circular tea table and its set of too-small-for-real-adults chairs. Tia’s cup is resting in her usual place, and she’s busy propping up the other teatime guests: Miss Walrus, the stuffed walrus, Sir Knight, the black horse, and Prince Daddy, the teddy bear that she carries around whenever Tim is gone. God help them all if she misplaces it before he gets home. 

Claiming his seat across from her chair, Jason sets his tea down and then kneels on the ground with his butt just barely resting on the lip of the tiny chair. He’s seen Tim actually sit on one of these chairs, and even he had a small battle to get out. Jason doesn’t dare even try.

“Here.” Tia hands him Prince Daddy. “You hold Prince Daddy.”

Squeezing the soft bear, he watches her skip back to her seat, more than a little confused. She  _ never _ lets go of Prince Daddy during tea time. “You sure you want me to hold him, sweetheart?”

She looks up from where she was scooting her chair in. “Uh huh. Papas always hold daddies.”

She says it so simply and innocently that it absolutely floors Jason. Tim had confessed how worried he was about what to say when she started asking why she had one parent and everyone else had two. Jason had tried to reassure him that it wouldn’t be an issue until she was in preschool. Well. Jokes on him because apparently Tia really is that smart, and now he has to figure out how to handle this when it should be Tim having the conversation. 

“Tia, baby.” He has to swallow to buy himself time to think. “I love you very much, but I’m not your papa.”

“Yes, you are,” she says, adjusting her teacup. “Eb-wee-one,” she sounds out, “has a Papa, and Kaleigh says that. That Papas are always Affas and you an Affa.”

Closing his eyes and taking a fortifying breath, he curses Tim for working so hard on her vocabulary. Three-year-olds aren’t supposed to be this articulate. Or, well, he assumed they weren’t. Lian certainly hadn’t been, for all the inarticulate babbling she did. (Once she started, though, the talking never stopped.)

“Kaleigh’s right,” he starts slowly, very carefully planning how to word this. “A lot of people have a papa or a mama, and some even have two mamas instead of a papa and daddy, but I’m not your papa, baby. I’m just… just your daddy’s friend.”

Her little hands clench into fists on the table, and the pout on her lips says she’s getting frustrated. “No! Yous Papa! Kaleigh says daddies are ‘Megas and papas are Affas and yous a Affa so you’re my papa!”

Angry tears escape the corners of her eyes, and Jason’s heart breaks just a little. “Oh, babygirl.” He knee-walks his way over to her, pulling her into his arms. Sometimes it seems like she has too much emotion packed into her little body, and he can’t help but think there’s something else at play here she hasn’t communicated yet. She usually doesn’t get so easily worked up. 

“I’ve got you, Tia. I’m here.” Rocking back and forth, he lets her hiccup little sobs into his collar bone, not caring about the tears or snot getting on his shirt. 

“Papas m-make daddies happy,” she mumbles, twisting her face up to scent him. “An’ you make Daddy happy, so you're Papa.”

Jason takes a shuddering breath, trying not to think too hard about all the emotions this brings to the surface, and nuzzles down so she can rub her pheromones into his skin. “Is your daddy not happy when I’m gone?”

She’s quiet for a long moment. “Daddy more happy if you're here. He smells…” She trails off, pulling back to look at Jason with an intense expression for a three-year-old. “Daddy smell like salt and not talk a lot. He said… um. Said he misses people. He…”

“Is lonely?” Jason supplies, piecing together what she’s trying to say even as her lisp gets worse, and her confused expression prompts him to continue. “Where he misses his friends and smells sad, but still sweet?”

“Uh huh. Lonely. And scared. He gets bad dreams.” 

The mental image of Tim having a nightmare bad enough to wake up Tia is viscerally painful, and Jason can feel his heart clenching at how little he can do about it. “You wanna know a secret?”

She looks up at him, green eyes wide and teary, her olive skin making them stand out even more and highlighting them in a way he knows Tim fears.

“I get lonely too. And sometimes, I get scared when I’m alone and have bad dreams.” 

She sucks in a breath, clearly gearing up for something, so Jason rushes to continue.

“I know I can always call your daddy if I need a friend, and he knows that he can always call me too.” Jason swallows the lump forming in the back of his throat. “There’s more to being Papa than just helping Daddy feel better, though. He has to want me to be your papa, and it has to be something we decide together. Papas have a very big job, and even if he doesn’t want me to be your papa, I’ll still be your Jayjay, right?”

She nods slowly, seeming to consider the merits of him staying just Jayjay. “And you talk to Daddy about being my papa?”

He lets out a weary breath. She really isn’t letting this matter drop. “And I’ll talk to your daddy. Now! I think your tea is getting cold.”

“Oh.” She turns and looks at the table, but stays leaning against his chest. “Can we watch cartoons?”

“Yeah, baby girl. We can go watch cartoons.”

-

Tim gets home hours later, well after Tia got her bedtime story and fell asleep, and Jason has had far too much time to dwell on their conversation. 

“Hey,” he greets Tim, “How did your meeting go?”

Tim looks exhausted, and ends up collapsing on the other end of the couch. “They’re signing with us as their new security consultants, so I’d say it went pretty well. How were things here? Tia in bed?”

“Out like a light.” He hesitates, despite knowing he really needs to bring up what happened, no matter how uncomfortable it is. “We also had a pretty interesting conversation.”

“Yeah?” Tim closes his eyes and tips his head back, resting it on the back of the couch.

“Yep. About daddies and papas and how I can’t be her papa without talking to you first.”

Tim’s head whips up so fast, Jason’s surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. “ _ What _ ?”

“Uh huh.” Jason nods, carefully looking away from Tim’s wide eyes. “Apparently Kaleigh told her that Papas are Alphas and that Papas make Daddies happy, or something. She was getting a little hysterical towards the end, so I’m not sure if she heard all that from Kaleigh or someone else.”

“Oh.” Tim’s voice sounds faint, and his face is beet red when Jason glances over.

“I think I convinced her that being just Jayjay is good enough, and I wanted to tell you so you wouldn’t be caught off guard if she brings it up.”

“Right.”

Conversation is usually so easy between the two of them, but now they sit in heavy silence, and Jason is terrified of saying the wrong thing and chasing Tim away. He’s lucky Tim wants him around at  _ all _ after the nightmare of last year.

“Well, you probably want to go to bed, so I’ll just get out of your hair.” Hauling himself up off the couch, he offers Tim the most genuine smile he can muster and goes to leave the room.

“Jason?” Tim’s voice stops him. 

He looks back and finds Tim up on his knees on the couch, something fragile and scared in his eyes.

“Would you want to?”

His confusion must show on his face, because Tim hurries to clarify himself.

“Would you want to… to be her papa?”

Breath catching in his throat, Jason stares at him, heart pounding. Tim’s hands are white-knuckled in the arm of the chair, and he looks  _ terrified _ .

“Tim,” he breathes out the name. “I… I can’t do that.”

Tim’s expression  _ shatters _ .

“I can’t be… be her papa without….” Why is this so hard? It’s not like he doesn’t know what he has to say. What he’s been ignoring for all these months. “I can’t pretend I don’t have feelings for you if she’s calling me papa all day long,” he finally forces out. “We’re friends, and I value that, and I don’t want to make this awkward, but I can’t be her papa and just be your friend.” He shakes his head, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to see Tim’s reaction. For better or for worse, it’s out in the open now. He just hopes that they can recover after this all settles.

“What if… what if I wanted that, too?”

Jason’s eyes snap open, and when he sees the hope in Tim’s face, he can’t help the wave of  _ longing-hopeful-want _ that takes over his scent. He’d never imagined, not even in his wildest dreams, that this could… that Tim would want…

“We could give  _ us _ a try? If… if you want? And wait to tell Tia until we have things kinda, figured?” Tim is visibly trembling.

The words are gone. He doesn’t think he’d be able to formulate a response even if they had stayed, but as it is, English is not a thing he is capable of at the moment. Instead, Jason stumbles forward to close the distance between them, and reaches out with an unsteady hand to trace his fingers over Tim’s features. He  _ revels _ in the way that Tim closes his eyes and leans into the touch. 

He threads his fingers into Tim’s hair and tugs gently to encourage the Omega to bare the side of his neck so he can bury his face in the exposed skin. The action startles a sound out of Tim, and Jason finds himself rumbling a purr in response.

“Tim.” His nose slides up the expanse of Tim’s neck, and he presses a chaste kiss to his mating gland. “Please accept my offer of courtship.”

Tim’s hands spasm where they rest against Jason’s biceps, digging in the muscle there. “Yes,” he pants, “yes, I accept.”

“May I kiss you?” 

The sweet spike of  _ desire _ in Tim’s scent comes seconds before Tim answers. “Yes.  _ Jason _ , please yes.”

Slotting his mouth over Tim’s, he spends a moment to just thrill over the feel of him, then pulls Tim’s lower lip into his mouth. Jason sucks lightly, earning a breathy sound from Tim, and presses their lips together once more.

Tim’s tongue swipes against his lower lip, and Jason takes that as permission to truly taste him. Tim’s mouth tastes as sweet as his scent. Jason feels like he could drown in him. 

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, him bending further and further over the arm of the couch Tim is kneeling on, fingers tugging at Tim’s hair, lips sealed together as they learn each other’s mouths. When they finally separate, Jason’s gasping for breath with his forehead still pressed against Tim’s.

Their scents have flooded the room in an overwhelming mix of  _ happiness-desire _ with an undercurrent of growing arousal. Jason stares into Tim’s eyes, pupils blown wide. He knows there’s only two ways the night will end, and one of them is better for their budding relationship than the other.

“I should go.” He doesn’t want to.

Tim nods against him, still breathless and panting. 

“Can I come over again this week? Friday?”

Tim nods again. “Yes. Yes, and Kaleigh can watch Tia. I want—can we go on a date? A real date?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” He forces his fingers to uncurl and release Tim’s hair. The silky strands slide through his fingers, and he deeply regrets the loss when he finally steps back. It’s worth it though, for the vision Tim makes with swollen-red lips and mussed hair. He hopes Friday’s date ends similarly. “Movies and dinner and—and fuckin’ milkshakes. Whole nine yards, babybird.”

“Babybird?”

Fuck. He had managed to keep himself from calling Tim that since the time he learned Tia’s middle name was a  _ Dune _ reference. “Yeah, uh.” He has to clear his throat. “‘Cause you’re my babybird? I don’t know, it sounded good in my head.”

Smiling, Tim lets out a soft laugh. “I like it.”

“You do?” His voice cracks just the slightest bit, and Jason can feel the heat suffusing his face. “Alright. Friday. I’m. I’m gonna go now.”

“Okay.”

Neither of them move.

“Leaving. Right.” Jason hesitates for a moment more before lurching forward for one last kiss. It’s soft, chaste, and he pours everything he’s feeling into it. “I’ll see you on Friday,” he whispers against Tim’s lips.

“Text me when you get home?” Tim asks.

“I will,” he promises. 

Pulling away a final time, the sunshine filling his chest spills onto his face in a beaming smile. He bites his lip and backs out of the room.

Friday can’t come soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to the JayTim discord for helping me figure out how to make baby-talk *not* painful! Hope you all enjoyed this installment of pure fluff :)

**Author's Note:**

> I am trying to edit a few things in this chapter (I think I just have to .... Kinda repost it? Not sure, but I'll figure it out XD) but for now I'd like to correct that Tia's birthday is in *January*, not October. 
> 
> Does this mean a sequel is coming soon? Well, you tell me. ;)


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